


The woman from the food truck

by Little_Plebe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Plebe/pseuds/Little_Plebe
Summary: She works in a food truck, a grubby little thing on wheels that surprisingly sells good fries.





	1. A plate of fries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nemhaine42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemhaine42/gifts).



> So, this is for you. I'm sorry about your friend and I know this story can't make up for what you must be feeling but I hope it at least brings a smile to your face. I know you wanted fluff but this kinda got away from me.

She works in a food truck, a grubby little thing on wheels that surprisingly sells good fries. Every day at around 6 pm, the truck makes its way to the square, the window opens and her head pops out to breathe the fresh evening air and gaze at the darkening sky. He watches from afar as a crowd slowly gathers and she patiently takes orders and serves fries with a polite smile on her face. He’s been going there for almost two weeks now and still can’t muster up the courage to go and talk to her. She seems too full of life to be interested in someone like him. Natasha says he’s broody and serious. He can’t help it if he is. That’s how he is these days.

The woman in the food truck is different. She’s all about smiles and free hugs. He’s seen her looking strained sometimes, a hint of resignation creeping into her features when she thinks no one’s looking, but she still manages a pleasant personality the whole time she’s working. It’s refreshing to watch. She makes him forget his past, the things he’s done, she makes him withstand the pain of the injuries he’s sustained on missions. His body isn’t like Steve’s. He takes time to heal. So he goes to her to forget.

He thinks about following her numerous times, finding out where she lives, if she has a family or… or a boyfriend, but Steve says he’s acting like a stalker and should just go talk to her like a man. How could he, with the constant cuts and bruises on his face courtesy of regular missions, with the metal arm that’s always there no matter how much he tries to hide it, with the scruffy face and killer eyes (Sam’s words) that scare children—and some adults—into peeing on the streets?

No, she’s better off without him.

Before he goes on a mission that he knows will be longer than one or two days, he snaps a picture of her on his Starkphone and sets it as his screen wallpaper. He’s being stupid, he knows, but she makes him happy, even if she doesn’t know he exists, even if she’s not a part of his life. Doesn’t he deserve a little bit of happiness? His friends can judge him all they want. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what he’s doing.

The mission scrapes him up pretty badly. Most of his injuries have healed but a variety of cuts decorate his face, some of them refusing to stitch up even after a day in the medical wing. He begs the doctors to let him go that night. He needs to see her. Seeing her would make him better. The doctors don’t believe him but they’re scared of him, so they let him go.

He makes his way to the square, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the food truck and the woman inside. She’s as breathtaking as he remembers her. He quickly walks to his regular spot – a lone bench in the shade of a plane tree that affords him some privacy and effectively blends him (thanks to the dark clothes he wears) into the background. It’s late, almost midnight, but he knows the food truck closes at 1 am. There’s still time.

Once he’s settled, he looks up again to find that she’s not at the window. He waits patiently for her to return but after five minutes when another person takes her place, his face falls. Did she leave? Why would she leave an hour early? What happened? Had he missed something?

He’s debating whether he should wait some more or merely go home and stare at her photograph in his Starkphone when he feels a presence beside him. He looks up so fast, his neck creaks, one hand already gripping a knife in his jacket. But it’s her! The woman from the food truck! She’s sitting beside him, a plate of fries in her hand. He gazes at her in shock and awe, unable to believe his eyes. When she silently holds out the plate she’s carrying, he barely spares it a glance, not at all interested in the fries.

She’s not afraid of him. She’s not there because she thinks he’s a homeless person in need of help and food. She’s looking at him like she knows him, a small, nervous smile gracing her pretty features. She tentatively raises her hand to trace a cut on his face and he winces involuntarily. Her fingers retract immediately but her touch has already been seared into his skin, tiny sparks shooting up and down from that area.

Had she always known he was there, watching her, memorizing her, falling for her? Had he completely missed those times where she had noticed him too? Had she grown tired of his silent spying and the longing in his eyes and had come to tell him to piss off?

She seems to know what he’s thinking because her smile widens a bit, this time a knowing glint in her blue eyes that makes him want to bury his face in his hands in embarrassment.

Offering the fries to him again, she speaks to him for the first time. “They call me Darcy.”

He takes a fry from the plate and replies softly, “They call me Bucky.”


	2. She waits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments on the previous chapter. Here's a bonus chapter for you guys.

She works for a scientist called Jane Foster. Tony says Jane is a friend who has been repeatedly invited to work in Tony’s tower. But if Jane comes, so will _she_. And that’s not a very good idea, is it? He still goes to see her at the food truck every night but he hasn’t been able to tell her who he is and what kind of work he does. She always seems so happy to see him that he thinks it would be a shame to ruin everything just yet. He’s slowly getting used to the way her eyes light up when she spies him from her place at the window. It takes a while but he realizes that she waits for him.

It’s baffling that a person like her is interested in him. His post-mission bruised face mystifies her but doesn’t turn her off and she seems to not mind his abysmal conversation skills. She talks enough for the both of them, her tone carefully soft. He finds out that she fears her shrill voice will drive people away, so she has learned to speak in a low pitch. He doesn’t think her voice is shrill. He doesn’t think there’s a single thing wrong with her. To him, she’s perfect.

Most days, he walks her home after the food truck closes. She lives a bit far but he doesn’t mind the walk, mainly because he hates the thought of her traipsing around the city streets alone at night. Plus, her house is a dilapidated little studio apartment in a dodgy neighborhood and every time he sees it, he has to fight the urge to stand guard outside her door. She laughs when he begs her to move somewhere else. The job of an unpaid intern and that of a food truck lady doesn’t offer her much, and he’s now beginning to understand the rare moments of frustration and resignation she has. He wants to tell her to come work at the tower. If anyone can convince Jane to take Tony’s offer, she can. But working at the tower will lead her to discover who he is, and he isn’t ready for that.

She packs him a bundle of sandwiches and fries for his next mission. She thinks he’s going to visit his aunt in Michigan. Natasha says he’s being an ass lying to her like that, but Steve is on his side. The truth is not something you tell a lady, especially if the truth consists of a metal arm, assassinations and seventy years on and off in ice. He doesn’t think she’d be extremely thrilled to find out that he is the Winter Soldier.

He spends the entirety of his free time on the mission looking at her picture on his Starkphone. He knows he’s being lovesick and pathetic (Sam’s words) but he can’t help it. She constantly dominates his thoughts to the point where he’s started having dreams about her. Sinful dreams that make him go red in the face every time he remembers them. Perhaps it’s time to let her go. They can never be together. Even if she’s as sweet on him as he’s sweet on her, he will never allow that. Being with him can endanger her life. And her existence is of the utmost importance. More important than saving America or even the world _yeah, screw your principles, punk_.

When he returns from the mission, he doesn’t go see her. In fact, he stops going there completely. His mind is made up. Her life is worthier than his feelings, strong as they may be. It’s difficult the first few days and, as the weeks pass, he becomes more and more miserable, but at least she’s safe and away from his drama. Sam says he’s stupid but he has no regrets.

He begs Tony to install a security camera outside her apartment. For that, he lets his left arm be painted red for a week, the words ‘Iron Man’s sidekick’ visible on his metallic biceps. He asks Natasha to monitor the video footage from the camera. For that, he has to give up his best killing knife. He coerces Steve to get some fries from the food truck because he craves them sometimes. For that, he has to endure a string of colorful words from America’s sweetheart followed by a swat to the head. He forces Sam into taking more pictures (discreetly) while Steve is buying the fries. For that, he gets an eye roll and _go drown yourself, you creep_.

In this way, more than a month passes. He still fights the urge to go see her every night, but it’s dull now. The pulsing need is gone because he has accepted that he’ll never see her again. Once in a while Natasha mentions the video footage from the security camera and tells him that she cries in her tiny studio apartment sometimes. But he doesn’t understand what he's supposed to do about that. Aside from the fact that she’s safe and alive, he has no idea what’s going on in her life. She could be crying about anything.

On a miserable Friday night two months after his decision to stop going to her, Steve goes on a late night run, leaving Natasha and Sam to keep him company. He doesn’t need company. He’s happy to suffer alone. He’s going to end up looking at her pictures anyway. That’s his life now. Depressing.

He hears the sound of the door opening but doesn’t look up. It’s probably Steve. Natasha and Sam get up and leave without a word. They’re terrible company, whispering among themselves the whole time and completely ignoring him. He calls out Steve’s name, asking if the punk remembered to bring milk. He’s met with silence. He curses and turns around, shouting Steve’s name but his voice stutters and fades when he sees who’s standing at the door.

Her eyes are wide and fixed on the wall behind him as she shuffles her feet nervously, looking completely out of place in his messy apartment. He’s confused at first. Is she an apparition? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s imagined her standing before him.

But she speaks. “I waited for you.”

“I… what?”

His flustered non-answer seems to give her confidence. She crosses the distance between them and looks up at him accusingly. “Why did you disappear? You had the audacity to install a camera outside my house and send your lackeys to buy fries and click my photos but you couldn’t come see me in person?”

His jaw drops and he doesn’t remember being more surprised in his life. “You know?” he asks stupidly. “But how?”

“You’re not the only spy in this room.”

“You’re a spy?” Fury’s going to kill him for falling for a spy.

“I started being one after I met you,” she replies with pride. “I’ve never met anyone more secretive than you, Bucky.”

He sighs. “Darcy.”

She hushes him and places a hand on his arm. His metal arm. Shit, it’s uncovered! He looks at her, frantic, but she’s completely calm, as if she’s not at all bothered or scared by the prosthetic.

“Steve told me everything.” So, Steve is the culprit. The punk is going to die a horrible death at his hands. “And I don’t care who you are or what you did in the past.” She pauses to bite her lip in thought. It’s terribly distracting. “Just… don’t make me wait, okay? I want this. I want us.”

That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him and it melts his heart.

He wants to think about this some more, build a good argument that can be presented to her in charts and graphs, accurately detailing reasons why they should stay away from each other even if she doesn’t want to and he doesn’t want to. But she’s looking at him expectantly and the soldier in him growls with impatience and before he knows it, he’s bending down to plant his lips firmly against hers. He hadn’t intended to kiss her. He’s used to having more control over his impulses. So, he’s a little surprised when they come together and she sighs into his mouth, winding both arms around his waist and drawing him further into her warmth.

If he could accurately describe how he feels right then, pressed up against her and eagerly mapping her mouth with his, he would still come up short for words. It’s like, he can barely contain his emotions, his astonishment ( _and_ fear) at her confession, his happiness at finally being with her like he always wanted, his hunger and need to have her in his life, and it has all boiled down to one desperate kiss that holds so much promise, his head spins. It takes a herculean effort to break away from her lips, the pull he feels toward her now stronger than ever. He absently wonders if he should thank Steve for the help or chastise the punk for giving him what he wanted. Surely he doesn’t deserve such happiness?

As he stares down at the hopeful and content look on Darcy’s face, he decides that it doesn’t matter if he deserves it or not. He’ll take her. He’ll take all of her. Because _she_ deserves it.


End file.
